Posted on 06/28/2010 12:43:57 PM PDT by DagonofAlbion
I deposit the Risk into the account of a dummy finance company for management, called the republican party.
Then, I deposit the damage into the account of a dummy corporation for control, called the democratic party.
I leave all the bible belt religions as spoilers, or third parties; putting them down as department store chains. To stave off the profit into the mints money burning facility, to insure that the money is worthless in terms of pragmatic value, and is only practical believed values.
And the Black market is pimped as bad but, even losing even your kindeys in a hotel bathtub on a drunk, is a value laundering scheme...
Thank you all for your input and participation!!!
I’m just someone whose husband has a good income! Be patient a week or so, and you can pay something. I might get a pair of shoes, but on the other hand, it’s almost fall, and I have fall shoes ...
Patience is my middle name. I’ve had to wait for so much in my life that as long as I know the sun will rise tomorrow, I can wait for it to happen!
Anything less than that is a breeze to get through. :o])
And with that, I’m off to bed.
Take care, all.
Four months prior, fighter sweep over Bradamante:
“Don't worry, they won't ignore us for long.” Sigma said over the communicator as he angled off away from the hull ‘below’ his fighter.
Flipping some switches he spun up the magnetotorque arrays crammed all around him.
“Hey lookit me, I'm a frigate.” and so he appeared on the screens to anyone looking at EM bands for vessel signatures.
The drones, and Sigma, hauled a hard turn to head towards the bombers.
“Ouch.” EVAlite muttered from behind Sigma, her nanite tubes hooked into his suit, she was his spacefighter parachute equivalent.
“Yes, it's not comfortable for me either, just keep me more or less in one piece.” he grunted as he pulled the small vessel into a tight roll that produced some gee forces.
The pulsed plasma projector weapons flared to life on the front of his fighter, and the nearest very confused bomber sputtered rocky flakes off the hull.
“Hunh, didn't think those would work.”
Alerted to the ruse, but still seeing a juicy frigate nearby somewhere, the bombers began circling and firing at anything that remotely resembled a target of large enough size.
“Spiders, they're focusing on me, take ‘em down.” excited beeps acknowledged his suggestion and swarms of spiderdrones flocked upwards away from Bradamantes hull.
Some close aboard bangs told him his armor plate was taking a beating from something.
He just didn't know what the weapons the aliens used were sending his way.
Some proximity blasts from the alien teleFRAG caused his craft to buck like an enraged bull so he figured there was a magnetic component to the alien weapon.
“You'd better hurry, we're running out of enemy craft out here to keep them from directly targeting us with that thing! Oh Da-” he never got to finish the word, his comms shut down due to static and his controls went momentarily dead.
“We have comms back.” EVAlite frantically worked to repair the craft AND Sigma at the same time.
Sigma transmitted to Sleipnir, “That was a bad idea guys, you just blossomed on the screens, expect incoming fi-”
Sleipnir fired at the shimmering in front of it as Sigma regained flight control and punched the throttles.
A curious audible ringing was heard through his earphones as the enemy weapon discharged the energy in a brilliant blossom of destruction.
“Ouch.” he muttered.
“I agree.” EVAlite said, she'd heard the tone in full broad spectrum EM.
“Tighten the cover on Bradamante.” Sigma ordered the spiderdrones just as a screen began to flicker a warning.
:ALERT: Gravity Well :ALERT:
“Oh my God.. NO NO NO NO NOOOOO!” Sigma knew what that meant, and he frantically flipped open a small cover while turning his craft away from Venus.
Then he breathed a short prayer and hit the button.
It was labeled “Jumpdrive initiate.”
Bradamante appeared to stretch and move both at blinding speeds and a snail pace away from them, yet they seemed to drag along with her at the same time.
Time stretched out in a palpably painful manner, and Sigma saw things he knew had not happened yet.
He was flung to the surface of Venus, he was slung out into deep space, he was on Earth with a wife and children whom he knew to be linked to EVA somehow, he was dead, he was alive, he saw alien bugs boarding Bradamante through breach pods, he saw Earth destroyed, he saw Earth saved, he saw the alien weaponfire gravitationally loop around Bradamante and hit Venus, he saw enemy weaponfire lag and drag in time to hit Bradamante several minutes after escaping Venus orbit, he was burning and boiling away on Venus surface as nanites vainly tried to keep him alive, he was floating weightless and frozen, he was resurrected, he was NOT resurrected, the aliens butchered him and used him as weapon ammunition after scavenging Bradamante for technology..
His head filled with pain from all of it.
And just as quickly as it began, it stopped, the short power burst from his jumpdrive expended.
He was relatively safe next to Bradamante as her shields to the full brunt of the enemy weaponfire.
“Uh.. permission to board?”
Aw, heck. I’m gettin a littel influcnes, and without page breaks is’ hard. ubut. all try.
Very 1930s, darks. Good. I’m gettin floord with this Herding Cat and too few Poins.
You need to learn Welsh! It's beautiful, it's expressive, and it's one of the most enduring of the Celtic tongues (along with Irish). And once you've been to a Gymanfa Ganu (a traditional event featuring Christian hymns sung in Welsh in 4-part harmony) and hear "Calon Lon" you will never again think it a "ghastly language." It is beauty incarnate.
Gàidhlig (Scots Gaelic) asserts itself as "The Language of the Garden of Eden" and in terms of how it can express beauty I am not going to quibble -- it leaves English (na Beurla, the "iron tongue") in the dust. But Welsh is THE language of hymns, and I call upon LoM, the Welsh-singer, for a response.
You need to learn Welsh! It's beautiful, it's expressive, and it's one of the most enduring of the Celtic tongues (along with Irish). And once you've been to a Gymanfa Ganu (a traditional event featuring Christian hymns sung in Welsh in 4-part harmony) and hear "Calon Lon" you will never again think it a "ghastly language." It is beauty incarnate.
Gàidhlig (Scots Gaelic) asserts itself as "The Language of the Garden of Eden" and in terms of how it can express beauty I am not going to quibble -- it leaves English (na Beurla, the "iron tongue") in the dust. But Welsh is THE language of hymns, and I call upon LoM, the Welsh-singer, for a response.
Aim won't help if I'm not even there. Gonna do what I can, but our monthly move could be either early or late.
I remember seeing a old movie called How Green was my Valley. All I remember clearly is the hymn music.
Okay, I surrender! I’ll go listen to Welsh recordings ;-).
Anyway, I’d have been more accurate if I’d said, “Welsh is a visually ghastly language.”
That was a big role for Maureen O’Hara. The singing group was brought from Wales to California for the filming, and then got stuck when World War II began.
Welsh also causes visual impairment for those unfamiliar with typing it.
I suspect I’ll need more than 10 figers to get it all down properly. I sure don’t want to be held responsible for killing a language by strangling it to death.
Sorry about that.
It’s in an RTF file at the moment, so page breaks are hard to judge, especially whn your point of view shifts from two points in time.
I figured it was just the way your mind worked. ;o]
Welp.
I gotta get after the data input while the pain in my leg is still somewhat benign.
Later.
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